


Echoes

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-03
Updated: 2006-12-03
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Jed Bartlet faces the loss of his friend-and finds that he's still there to help him face his loss.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

He fled down the corridor, searching. Hung up after talking to Abbey and walked out of the Oval leaving Debbie standing there, knowing she would let him go. He walked quickly-quicker than he had ever expected to walk again six months ago. Search the halls of this huge mansion for a place where he was not the President, or a husband, or a father, or a bereft friend.  
A place where he could simply be.  
But each turn in each corridor, each door he opened, held a memory of a lanky gait walking toward him. A laugh, a grin accompanied by twinkling eyes. A voice he could not turn away from-speaking truths he could not deny. Finally, knowing he could not run from him, he sought him, instead.  
In the room he stayed in on late nights of crisis-when Jed could get him to sleep at all.   
He found himself in the Lincoln Bedroom. On nights of crisis Leo would bunk in this room, steps away from the West Wing, They would often sit and talk here, privately about simple and complex matters. The last time was after the wedding. Crisis averted once again, he had sat with his friend, talking things over. After all this time, with Leo now moving past him into his own destiny, Jed still sought his advice-and his affirmation.   
Leo had spoken as well. Of his growing admiration for his running mate. His resolve for the future. And finally, leaning forward with his clasped hands resting on his knees, he had spoken to him of Annabeth. Of his amazement to find himself bothing loving and loved at this late date.   
Jed walked about the darkened room, lit only by the lights outside on the lawn. Looked out the window at the tree that Andrew Jackson had planted-and beyond it.  
Somewhere beyond his sight, a candidate regrouped. Already names were being mentioned-bandied around. His heart reached out to a man left dealing with it all-a man reeling as he had almost 8 years before. A man who’d lost his Father once again.  
Somewhere, a woman held her child-a child who would never know his Grandfather now-except through media bites.   
Somewhere, another woman cried for something so newly found-and now lost.  
Somewhere, in Coventry, a man sat at his laptop, pounding away. Writing, revising, searching for the words to describe a man who’s quiet life of service had driven all who knew him. Jed had used back channels to reach him, for there was no one else he would trust those words to but Toby.  
Below him, staffers moved though the building as they always had, dealing with the everyday business of running the Nation. For over a year they had done so, without the driving restless spirit who had known it all, seen it all, dealt with it all. In his place, his hand-picked successor moved, channeling her lost Mentor-who would know what to do. Somehow, the gears still worked.   
His had ground to a halt.  
“I can’t wait to get out of here.” he said in the darkness.  
“Bullshit.”, a familiar voice replied.“You’ve loved every minute of it.”   
There it was. No bullshit, no couching of words. Blunt and truthful, and spoken with compassion.  
“I killed you.”, he said in the darkness.  
“Bullshit again. Self-absorbed, self-flagellating bullshit.”  
“I made you...”  
“You didn’t make me do anything. Nobody ever made me do anything. I did what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. And I loved every minute of it.”   
“No.” Jed said, restlessly moving about the room. “It’s too much. I’ve lost too much.”  
“Gonna go back to the National Cathedral for another smoke, are yah? Spit on the marble this time? Get over yourself. You haven’t lost anything. I’m still here.”  
“No.”  
“Yes. 40 years. You have all that-none of that is lost. There just...won’t be any more. You can handle that, can’t you?”  
Jed stood silent, his arms wrapped around himself, his head down. “How?”, he finally whispered.  
“Go.” the voice said, beginning to fade now. “Do a job. They need you. Help them. All of them. They will help you.”  
“Don’t go.” Jed whispered.  
“I’ll be around. It will be hard for you to hear me for a while. Too much in the way. But soon...before you know it...I’ll be back.”   
Jed was left alone in the silent room. He tightened his grip around his own body-as if receiving a hug from an old friend-and with it a transference of spirit. He raised his head and breathed in deeply.  
Still so much to do. Each day that ticked away was still marked off on the dry-board standing in an empty office. He left the room quietly.  
He fled down the corridor, searching. Not for escape now-for inclusion. For purpose and duty and the legacy given him on a paper napkin 8 years before.  
He could almost hear another set of footsteps matching his own and he headed for the West Wing, searched for what was next.

 

“I will see you in the light of a thousand suns  
I will hear you in the sound of the waves  
I will know you when I come, as we all will come  
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I came into this world  
All alone I will someday die  
Solid stone is just sand and water,   
Sand and water and a million years gone by”


End file.
